


All Wash Wants is a Shower

by metonym



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: It's shower time, M/M, Set during the Chorus trilogy, There's some uncommon headcanons in here, This is awkward sorry, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7136513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metonym/pseuds/metonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Agent Washington wants to do is take a well needed shower without being interrupted. Of course his luck is nonexistent this morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Wash Wants is a Shower

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic posted on ao3, hope you guys like it. There's not a lot of fics of this pairing so I might do some more in the future. Stay tuned!

It's been ages since Agent Washington has had a decent shower. Years and years of the only showers available consisting of a small space you could barely turn around in and two temperatures: freezing and less freezing, had taken a toll on his hygienic sanity. So when he discovered that the New Republic somehow had access to not only heated water, but soap as well, he was more than eager to strip down.

  
Unlike some of the Reds and Blues, Wash wasn't one to be outside of his armor. Sure, on the occasion he'd take off his gloves or less occasionally, his helmet, but never the entire suit in front of anyone. It was protection and had grown to become a part of him. If he was caught without it on and Felix or Locus found him, he'd be dead with no second thoughts.

  
The morning after discovering the showers and before anyone else had woken up, Wash stalked his way to the "shower house". The walk was pleasantly silent, with only the hum of machinery disturbing the tranquility. Something he hadn't gotten in a long time since he'd been with the Reds and Blues.

  
The shower house was empty, with no sign of anyone having been here except for the water gathered at the bottom of the showers around the drains. Wash turned on the shower furthest from the door and stripped down as he waited for the water to heat up. Carefully he took off each section of his armor and set it on the long row of benches in the center of the room. All that remained was the black undersuit that had become a second skin to him. He looked in the mirror on the adjacent wall.

  
The harsh florescent lighting brought out the dark grey circles under his eyes, making him look as tired as he felt. He looked pale and had less freckles, probably due to the lack of sun he'd been getting lately. Donut's advice of "needing more vitamin D" rang through his ears and he grimaced. Without the suit on he felt small, not in a height way, but in an uneasy gut twisting way, like a defenseless rabbit in the jaws of a fox kind of way. The sooner he was back in his armor the better.

  
He hastily unzipped the undersuit and took it off, neatly folding it next to the towel and bar of soap Kimball had given him. Grabbing the soap bar he stepped into the warm shower, a sigh of overdue pleasure echoing off the cement walls.

  
The showers had no doors or curtains so he quickly started scrubbing at his body with the soap, hoping to be done within a few minutes. One minute into washing himself, someone walked into the shower house, whistling and sounding like they were carrying a lot with them.

  
Wash froze dead in his stall, heart beating faster at each passing moment as the intruder turned on their shower and took off their clunky armor. It's not that Wash was scared or intimidated by others or had insecurities about his body; Project Freelancer was sure to take care of that. It was that none of his fellow soldiers had seen him without his armor and much less naked.

  
The stranger stepped into their shower and he breathed a sigh of relief. Now was his escape. He could either leave right now, half washed or he could wait out the other person. He didn't expect anyone else to come in this early (the sun was nowhere near close to rising yet) so he'd be safe waiting another ten or so minutes. He decided to continue showering and finished scrubbing his body clean. The whistling wasn't too bad until the other person started belting out old Broadway songs.

  
"Oh, come on!" Wash thought to himself as he scrubbed his scalp and in-need-of-more-than-a-trim hair.

  
The whistling stopped, "What was that about coming?" The phantom voice inquired. Wash stopped, frozen again, this time by the person behind the voice. Of all people it had to be --

  
"Hi Wash!" Beamed Donut as he popped up in front of Wash, soaking wet and completely naked. Wash screamed and quickly moved his hands from his hair to cover his privates.

  
"What are you doing Donut!?" He managed to speak out. His face had flushed and so had probably everything else by this point. He looked at everywhere else but Donut, hoping he'd go away.

  
"Taking my daily shower, of course! I come here every day at 4:15," Donut had crossed his arms and was staring at Wash like this was obvious information.

  
"Why?" Wash had settled his voice into a more normal range and had backed up a little further into the shower.

  
Donut gave him a smile and went on excitedly, "I could ask you the same thing! I've never seen you here before. We can be shower partners now!" Donut stepped forward and looped an arm around Wash's larger frame as Wash tried to pull away.

  
"Just imagine. You and me, saving this planet one bar of soap at a time!" Donut waved his free hand in front of them like he was depicting the battlefield after their valiant efforts. Wash wiggled out from under his grasp and turned to face the smaller soldier.

  
"That sounds great Donut but I have a shower to get to...and you're touching me again," Donut was inspecting a particular nasty scar on Wash's abdomen when Wash swatted his hand away.

  
"Where'd you get that from?" Donut asked him, having stepped away and back out of the shower.

  
"Freelancer stuff," Wash replied exasperatedly as he shooed Donut back to his own shower.

  
From the other side of the room Donut called back to him, "It's always Freelancer stuff with you."

  
Wash rinsed out the leftover soap from his hair and turned the shower off, "Well yeah I am -was- a freelancer. It's not like you guys have left me any scars." _Except maybe some emotional ones._

  
Wash towel dried his hair and then wrapped it around his waist, wet feet slapping against the concrete ground filling the silence of where Donut had turned his shower off. Donut strolled out of his shower, still fully naked and carrying a shower tote full of different products.

  
"I've got some scars of my own too," Donut said almost proudly as he made his way to the sinks.

  
Wash looked over Donut and his eyes hesitated on a scar on Donut's lower abdomen. It was a pale pink circular scar just a few inches to the left and below his bellybutton, still fairly fresh unlike the big one Wash had that was nearing a decade old. It was a grim reminder to Wash of what he'd done and what he was capable doing. Even though there was no need to apologize for almost killing Donut now, he still felt bad and the guilt began eating away at him.

  
“Hey Wash, no need to worry, I’m fine. Doc fixed me up and I’m as good as new. Now this scar,” Donut pointed to the star burst type scar that sprawled across the right side of his face, “is a bitch. It totally ruined my complexion!” Donut turned to the mirror and started poking and fiddling with the nasty scar. Wash let a small laugh out at Donut’s antics and pulled on his undersuit. It didn’t want to move on very easily because he was still a little wet from the shower, but he tugged it on anyways. He finished the rest of his morning routine at the sinks, standing next to Donut, who was meticulously brushing his teeth.

  
“Hey Wash,” Donut said in between flossing his teeth, “are you naturally blonde?” the way Donut asked made it sound more accusatory rather than inquisitive. Wash flushed and looked at the smaller soldier, his defense at the question stuck in his throat.

  
He felt his voice raise like it always did when he was flustered, “What makes you say that?” Donut turned back to the mirror to inspect his hair and shrugged, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

  
“Well typically the carpet matches the-” Wash whipped around to face Donut who was cut off by Wash’s sudden movement.

  
“Donut!” Wash shrieked, blush spreading down his neck and to his ears, “Please, just stop talking right now," and in a lower tone he added, "and no I'm not naturally blonde."

  
Unfazed by the outburst Donut continued on, "See that's what I thought. I never pictured you as a blonde and seeing you now I definitely don't think it's your color. Have you tried going darker?"

  
Donut put one hand on his hip and the other on his chin contemplatively, bright blue eyes scanning Wash's face. Wash stared back still astounded by the fact that Donut didn't even react to him. He broke the eye contact and returned to his belongings, putting his armor back on, Donut's eyes never leaving him.

  
"If you ever want to," Wash heard from behind him, "I could dye your hair for you. I was thinking of switching it up and going dark for a change. You know, once you go black you can never go back!"

  
Wash finished putting on his gloves and picked up his helmet, turning to Donut. A still very naked Donut. He quickly put his helmet on to hide his embarrassment.

  
"That, uh, sounds nice?" Wash squawked out. Donut beamed up at him and finally started dressing, to Wash's relief. Wash picked up his towel and made his way to the shower house door.

  
"So it's a date!" Donut called from his spot on the bench.

  
Wash quickened his pace to the door and opened it, "It's not a date!" he managed to get out as the door closed.

 

\----

 

"Dude, are you okay?" Tucker asked Wash in between breaths after running his tenth lap that morning, "You seem even more upright than usual."

  
Wash turned to Tucker. A few awkward beats of silence filled the air between the two of them, making Tucker shift from one leg to another.

  
"I think I got hit on by Donut."


End file.
